


Between Iron and Thought

by teejplease



Category: Pacific Rim (2013), The Incredible Hulk - All Media Types
Genre: ALL THE ANGST, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Dubious Science, F/M, M/M, Medical Inaccuracies, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Not Abandoned, Polyamory, Science Fiction, Science Fiction & Fantasy, are you in it for the long haul, because my nursing license was bound to show up in fanfiction sooner or later, fuck it, hopefully everyone lives, i just suck, this fic is basically me nerding out over science and psychology, we will see what my muses say
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-01
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-01-03 02:42:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1064791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teejplease/pseuds/teejplease
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They say that losing your copilot is like being ripped in half: you know parts of you are missing, you never forget, but each day the hurt grows as you discover another thing that person took with them when they left.  Maybe it's lucky then that so few pilots survive a loss to a kaiju without their partner coming through as well.</p><p>Raleigh and Yancy have a different kind of luck.  </p><p>-</p><p>Or the AU where, after Yancy is ripped out of Gipsy, an imprint of him is forever drifting with Raleigh.  The two brothers share a body and nothing is ever the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The newest foreman is the one who teaches the Becket boys how to build a wall. Silver glasses and a kind, drooping face are at odds with the older man’s strong hands and small, compact yet sturdy body. He tells them to call him by his first name and they easily comply. The boys are usually wary of others (have been since the accident) but they like Bruce. Something about the way he draws into himself speaks of an intimate knowledge with the problems that plague Yancy and Raleigh.

They’re on a remote stretch of the wall (it’s supposed to be humanity’s great hope, now that the jaegers are failing). The boys are intently listening to Bruce, whose calm demeanor is affected by an even graver seriousness than usual.

"Now, this is very important, guys," the older man states, rubbing a little at one of his eyes. For a moment - the boys cock their heads.

For a moment, it almost seemed the foreman’s eyes glowed green.

"You’re building a wall to separate us from them," he stated. "But you always have to leave a door in case someone needs to get through," he locked gazes with Raleigh. Besides him, Yancy listened intently. "Do you understand?"

Raleigh glanced at his brother. ”Yeah, of course. We were there when Knifehead -.”

"What he’s saying," Yancy interrupted, his deep voice rolling over his brother’s easily, "is we know what it means to always keep in mind that sometimes people need rescuing. And sometimes they’re on the other side, exactly where you don’t want them to be."

Bruce’s lips curled up in a bemused smile - most of his smiles were like that, actually, when talking to both the Beckets. He shrugged. ”As always, Yancy knows best,” he commented wryly. He wiped his hands on a rag, chuckling when it just made them dirtier.

The three of them all turned when they heard the noise of a ‘copter landing. The figure that stepped out was one familiar to all of them, and, if not, the sinuous, predator feel of the Marshall’s stride announced his presence.

There was something elegant the boys had always found in their Marshall. He had the carriage of royalty but something fierce in his face. He reminded them of an old tiger they had seen in a zoo once - with ragged ears and a war-torn gaze. That tiger had been captured from the wild and placed in a posh, large cage (a thing the world started doing to prevent all the animals from getting wiped out from the Kaiju). Something about that tiger’s stare was echoed in Pentecost’s face - a certain willingness to do anything to survive, even pretend to be tamed.

"Sir," the boys said in unison.

The Marshall nodded, his eyes lingering over the rubble around them - the wall taking shape.

"Stacker," Bruce started reproachfully, standing.

The decorated man raised a hand to stop the foreman. He looked at Raleigh. ”We are in need of your service again,” besides Raleigh, Yancy began vibrating in suppressed agitation.

"Just my service?" the younger brother asked in disbelief. It had been common knowledge that Raleigh’s exuberance was only tempered by Yancy’s control.

Pentecost opened his mouth, his brow furrowing. He turned to Bruce in disbelief. ”I thought,” he started.

Bruce motioned around them. ”We’re still building the wall,” he stated, his figure tense.

"We are in need," the Marshall muttered under his breath, eyes looking Raleigh up and down.

Raleigh shrugged unapologetically. ”We’re a team.” Yancy’s ire eased a little at those words. He had always showed so much more deference to authority figures than his younger brother - it must have smarted to be so ignored by someone they both respected so much.

"Stacker," this time, the Marshall paid attention to Bruce’s calling. "I can spare him - both of them."

Marshall’s gaze locked onto the foreman’s, searching. After a moment, he nodded. ”We are in need,” he began once more, turning towards the brothers.

Both men straightened, ready to do their duty and listen to their leader’s plea.

-

There were only three seats available on that helicopter when they left. It would have been fine if the Marshall hadn’t decided to bring Bruce along for the ride, thinking his expertise in engineering/reinforcement could be greatly used at the base. The boys shrugged off the inconvenience, Yancy’s protective nature making Raleigh take the seat, shooing their friend towards the Marshall. The older man hooked his arms around his brother’s legs, sprawling in the expanse of space before them.

The Marshall paused at the stretch of Raleigh’s legs before shaking his head and taking the opposite seat. Bruce slid beside him.

Raleigh was almost tempted to say something lascivious, only stopping when Yancy pinched his calf in warning. He jerked in pain.

Unnoticed by the two of them, Bruce shot everyone else a warning glance.

No one said anything at their blatant disregard of safety. It was almost as if Yancy wasn’t there.


	2. Chapter 2

They landed without much fanfare.  Yancy (the old dog) was, of course, still sleeping between Raleigh's legs.  He slept like any other g-man: able to sleep anywhere, with a body still tense where it needed to be (locked around Raleigh's calves) but loose limbed everywhere else.  Raleigh was tempted to shove his foot into the older man's ribs, but thought again of Yancy's face when the marshall hadn't even acknowledged him.

Yancy could find him later (he always did).

As if on the same page, Bruce spoke, "Let him sleep a little longer."

Surprisingly, Pentecost quickly agreed, "He can catch up with you later, Becket.  This one isn't due to make any other runs for awhile, I think." 

Raleigh shrugged and slung his stuff over his shoulder.

Yancy was lucky - Raleigh knew a few years ago, he would have hassled his brother until the older had no other choice but to get up.  He smiled to himself.  Maybe they were right - with age came maturity.

He followed the two other men, curiosity growing when the marshall led the two of them to a young woman.  Despite her average wear, she struck a compelling figure simply by her posture and sharply bobbed hair, streaked blue.  

 _Kaiju blue_ \- color Raleigh interested.  

"Mr. Becket, this is Mako Mori," it had been several years since Raleigh had seen the Marshall, but even he could see the edge of pride hiding in the corner of Pentecost's mouth, "one of our brightest."

High praise from a man rumored to have an actual steel backbone.

Raleigh intently listened to the rest of Stacker's introduction, knowing this woman to be important if the Marshall held her in such high regard.  Raleigh was quick to speak up when Mako voiced her concerns in Japanese.

Her nod of respect loosened something inside of him.  Her presence made his body almost hum in a way that reminded him of -  _nah._

The group of four was soon joined by two squabbling scientists in the elevator.  

Raleigh listened in amusement as the two fought over the group's attention like a pair of newborn pups.  He liked both immediately, even attempting to engage Newt in conversation over the scientist's tattoos.

Newt's enthusiastic response was not expected and Raleigh knew his face clearly showed his discomfort.  

He was so taken aback by Newt's faux pas that he didn't notice the telling glance the Marshall shot Mako.  Her brow furrowed in confusion, the indentation growing when Pentecost nodded at the Ranger next to them before inclining his head towards the bespeckled man.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Becket, I'm going to show him where I want his expertise best utilized, so I must leave you," Marshall declared, separating with Bruce.  "Dr. Gottlieb and Dr. Geiszler, with me."

Raleigh followed Mako, small talking with her, asking her why she wasn't a pilot herself.  Her answer thrummed with resignation.  

That did not sit well with Raleigh.  Already he could she was a capable individual.  "That doesn't make any sense.  The Marshall clearly values your opinion.  Your work was the reason he thought we could pilot again."

Mako's brow furrowed once more at the 'we' but she nodded.  "It's true that I did a lot of research studying your strategies in battle. I analyzed much of what you did in comparison for what we needed for our mission."

Raleigh looked up from his unpacking, thumbing through some photos.  "And, what do you think?

Mako didn't beat around the bush, extolling on all the holes she saw in his fighting style and strategy.  No one told Raleigh he'd have to keep his guard up around a woman who couldn't have weighed more than 130 pounds. "I don't think you're the right man for this mission," she ended her analysis. 

"Well, thank you for your honesty.  You might be right.  But one day when you're a pilot, you're going to see, you'll make decisions and," he hesitated over the picture of Yancy and him laughing.  When was the last time they had taken a picture together?  The aftermath of Knifehead had darkened everything since then.  There was no time for capturing and eternalizing happiness since.  They had been more concerned with what they were going to next eat (something churned like guilt in Raleigh's gut over how Yancy's once bulkier form looked more and more like Raleigh's everyday).  He missed those carefree days.  "You have to live with the consequences."  

-

"Doctors, I'm sorry to not introduce you two sooner but this is Dr. Bruce Banner," Marshall led the way towards the two's labs, ignoring the hullabaloo he knew would follow after his declaration. 

Both scientists jerked in surprise, looking at the unassuming man next to them.  They immediately began talking over one another as they shook hands with Bruce.

"Dr. Banner, your work with Dr. Lightcap is unprecedented!" Gottlieb complimented.  "It's an honor. Glad to see that the Marshall here is starting to employ _real_ scientists."  He shot Newt an acidic glance. 

Newt rolled his eyes but his excitement was only momentarily derailed.  "It is most definitely an honor!  I'd love to pick your brain about the lab accident -"

"Netwon!"

"Dr. Geiszler," Newt's two compatriots cried simultaneously, their reproach mirrored in each other's faces. 

Bruce waved away their concern, giving Newt a small, sad smile.  "Another time, Newt.  I believe Stacker has another issue he'd like to discuss first."  He pulled a disc out of his backpack. 

Newt gulped.  The fact that Bruce was allowed to call the Marshall by his first name spoke of a familiarity that the smallest scientist wasn't too keen to look into.  It took some serious balls to call the Marshall that (Newt may have attempted to do so once.  The look the Marshall had leveled on him had quelled any ideas of doing so ever again).

Gottlieb limped over to the computer at his desk, pushing the disc in.

"Did you two notice anything different from Becket when you met him?" the Marshall questioned his research division.

The two scientists both shook their heads. 

"I mean he was a pretty nice dude," Newt shrugged, crossing his arms.

Gottlieb shot his rival an exasperated look, "A little standoffish at points but who isn't in times like these?"

The Marshall and Bruce exchanged looks, the latter nodding.

"This goes without saying that this doesn't leave this room," the Marshall shook his infamous finger at both of them, releasing their gazes only when he saw confirmation of agreement for what he had just ordered.

He sighed.  "You know Bruce's specialty.  He was called a few years back to help with Becket's case." He waved at the other man to continue. 

Bruce tapped against the holoscreen of Hermann's computer, bringing up the information he wanted.  "These were the most recent brain scans of Yancy and Raleigh before the fight with Knifehead."  He gestured between the two pictures.  "As you can see there are a lot of similarities, which isn't surprising considering their compatibility, shared genetics, etcetera." 

He pulled a new scan up.  "This is a scan of Raleigh's brain now. They all look like this since the the coma, with variants for activity level, nutrition, you know."

The two other scientists both leaned in interest, unknowingly both adjusting their glasses.

"Wow," Newt breathed.  "It's like -."  He tilted his head.

Gottlieb hummed in agreement.

The Marshall made an impatient noise.  The three scientists were broken from their reverie, sheepish that they had lost themselves in their ideas once again.

Bruce took the old scans of each of the brother's brains and superimposed them.  The resulting image was identical to the one taken most recently.

The Marshall leaned back, exhaling quickly.  "I thought it was just something related to PTSD!"

Bruce rubbed at his mouth before opening both palms in helplessness.  "It's not," he raised a hand to stop anyone's interjections.  "There is a change in brain chemistry and activity after events like these, it's true.  Trauma does mysterious things to the brain.  But I've _never_ seen anything like this."

"Is the other Becket conscious?" Newt looked horrified.  Seated in front of the computer, so did Hermann.

"He is," Bruce confirmed. 

"Is it dangerous?" the Marshall asked, mind racing towards the untested rangers at Hong Kong who may need to step in for Raleigh if needed.

Bruce shook his head.  "No, I don't think it is.  They're able to function their day-to-day lives.  I told you, I think they can do it."

"Do they know?" Gottlieb questioned, shrewd.

Bruce's face twisted.  "Hard to say.  We have to tell them soon.  They have to know before the trials begin."

The Marshall straightened at that.  "Trials?  You mean to tell me that they still need a _copilot_?"

Bruce combed a hand through his hair worriedly, pressing his hip against the table.  "I mean, this has never happened before.  They might be able to pilot by themselves but it's still only _one_ body.  The neural load -."

This time, the Marshall's hand stopped Bruce's tirade.  "Could you?" he tilted his head in askance.

Bruce shook his head, incredulous.  " _Me?_  Copilot with them?  I'm a scientist, not insane!  That would be too much -!"

The Marshall cut him off once more, "Say no more, Bruce."  He motioned to another chair.  "Please sit.  Calm down."

The other two scientists exchanged confused looks.

"Man, whose going to tell them?" Newt always asked the hard questions.

Bruce breathed deeply in, palms against his knees.

"I'll do it," he declared.  "I'll tell them."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raleigh shuddered, panic coming from all sides, within him and from the far-off connection that was never truly severed between those in the 99th percentile of drift compatibility. Yancy was usually like a calm lake – no matter the churning that may be happening in deeper pits, it was hardly ever shown on the surface. Raleigh hardly ever felt anything worrisome from his older brother, except for choice times such as –
> 
> _NonononononotRaleighIhavetosavehimIpromisedheneedsmeIcan’t-_

Raleigh laid on his bed, unable to tear his gaze from the pictures he had memorized by this point. His brother sat against a wall, tossing a ball off of another. 

While neither brother was the boisterous youth that they once had been, there usually was some chatter bouncing between them. The problem with becoming so in sync with another person is that sometimes there are no words left to say – that or they were both overcome with the same insidious thoughts.

Unfortunately, the current silence seemed to be related to the latter. A sense of melancholy had settled between the two ever since the Marshall’s disregard of Yancy’s ability to pilot. Wracked with guilt (and a similar sense of doubt though neither of the two mentioned it) Raleigh, the one who usually filled these kinds of silences, was somber, brow furrowed. It was no wonder that when there was a knock on the door (quiet but firm – it could be no else but the man they had befriended) Yancy was the one who stood to answer it. 

Raleigh could hear them murmuring to one another, but it seemed far off – as if coming from a great distance. It was no wonder – Yancy was standing in the doorway, blocking most of the noise out, unable to stop his mother-henning despite his own misery. 

“Bruce, now is not really a good time,” Yancy said. The older man’s reply seemed like static but something he must have said or the expression on his face made Yancy sigh and turn away from the door. Raleigh sat up and his brother took a post near the exit, vibrating with agitation, barely restrained with crossed arms. 

Bruce’s face was kind but underlined with the steely resolve that he usually attempted to hide better. “Hey, Raleigh,” he greeted.

Raleigh gave him a brisk nod. “Sir,” at the word, Bruce paused and Yancy scoffed, his mouth twisting into something ugly. 

Raleigh hadn’t addressed the other man as a superior except in jest since a few weeks after meeting Bruce. 

Bruce cautiously perched at the foot of the bed, hands braced on his knees. “Seems like you’ve got a lot on your mind.” 

Yancy scoffed again. “What a great opener, doc.”

Bruce shook his head, unsurprised but disappointed by Yancy’s blatant aggression, while Raleigh mouthed the word, ‘doc’. The word was a familiar one but a title he had never heard Bruce addressed as. The word tasted right in his mouth, though – sour like just turned milk. 

Raleigh once again felt like the child who had trailed after his much larger brother, teetering on thick, unsteady toddler-legs, fists clenched in his reluctantly fond older brother’s pants. The way he felt when Yancy had spoken for the both of them before Raleigh knew how, mom and dad’s soft gazes eyeing the pair of them affectionately, despite the seriousness in the lines around Yancy’s young mouth. 

Yancy affected an impatient sigh, leaning against the door he had just opened. Besides Raleigh, Bruce took off his spectacles and rubbed them against his shirt. 

“Raleigh, what do you remember about the fight with Knifehead?” Bruce breathed.

Raleigh started. “Bruce, you know that I don’t remember anything after the first -.”

“Raleigh,” Yancy’s voice cut his brother off. “Don’t do this.”

The younger Becket shot his brother a helpless look. “I don’t -.”

_**‘Raleigh, listen to me -!’ Terror. NonononononotRaleighIhavetosave-**_

Raleigh shook his head, a palm pressing against his forehead. “I don’t feel – Bruce, can we finish this later? I’m so -.”

Yancy closed his eyes, steeling himself. “Raleigh, listen to me.”

Raleigh shuddered, panic coming from all sides, within him and from the far-off connection that was never truly severed between those in the 99th percentile of drift compatibility. Yancy was usually like a calm lake – no matter the churning that may be happening in deeper pits, it was hardly ever shown on the surface. Raleigh hardly ever felt anything worrisome from his older brother, except for choice times such as –

_**NonononononotRaleighIhavetosavehimIpromisedheneedsmeIcan’t-**_

Raleigh’s shivers had turned into uncontrollable shaking, Bruce’s weight on the bed the only thing keeping it from trembling alongside the youngest man.

“I’m sorry,” Yancy murmured. “I never meant to do this to you.” Between them, the sincerity of the statement ached like a new bruise. 

“Do what?” Raleigh managed to ask.

Yancy turned his gaze away, ashamed. “You know,” with that simple statement, he raised his hand and clenched it into fist, and Raleigh watched as his own body matched the motion in complete sync.

Raleigh’s mouth opened in a silent scream, his eyes catching Bruce’s empathetic ones. And he realized, throughout the entire conversation, Bruce’s eyes had never left Raleigh’s face, even when Yancy had been speaking. Such a simple gesture - such a simple courtesy that Raleigh knew that a man of Bruce’s temperament would never do unthinkingly. 

His mind flashed between every single other time that he had spoken to other people besides his brother. Panicking, he realized the other party only ever looked at one of the Beckets, gaze never wavering between the two like they used to before Knifehead. 

_What happened? He knew what happened._

Even before drifting was possible, people had said that the brothers moved as if they had only one body. A hysterical bark of laughter ripped through his shaking form.

Maybe there had been some foreshadowing in such statements after all.

The two other men watched helplessly as Raleigh’s frenzied thoughts shook alongside his quaking body. He was glad neither of them reached out to placate him (a high-pitched voice inside his head pointed out that Yancy hadn’t touched him in years, could never rest an assuring hand on his younger brother’s shoulder ever again, despite the memory of it, because Yancy’s body was feeding uncaring fish in a radioactive sea). 

“So who are you then?” the question shot bitterly at their friend. 

Bruce’s hands opened in a calming gesture. “I’m still your friend. I’m still Bruce Banner.”

“Banner,” Raleigh repeated bitterly, the last name revealing all that Raleigh needed to know about his previous supervisor.

Bruce Banner: famous for working alongside many other geniuses to create a solution for the Kaiju menace, infamous for surviving direct exposure to radiation during one of the earlier tests. His appearance in their lives hadn’t been just a coincidence then, probably a part of the unwavering loyalty and dedication Pentecost felt towards those he had considered his. 

“So, what’s the diagnosis, doc?” Raleigh asked.

Bruce sighed and answered, despite the fact that at this point, the general picture was clear to everyone in the room. “During Knifehead’s attack, Yancy Becket’s body was yanked from the conn pad and never recovered.”

Raleigh slammed an angry fist against the wall of his room. “And so I created a figment of my fucking imagination to deal with my failure,” he snarled.

“No!” The raising of Bruce’s voice was enough to jar Raleigh out of his snit – Bruce _never_ raised his voice or displayed anything but an even temperament. 

“No,” he said again, this time back at the normal level of his voice. 

Something like hope bloomed in Raleigh’s chest. “What are you saying?” he dared to ask, his voice quiet. He didn’t dare look at Yancy. Yancy didn’t dare look at him.

“Yancy’s body was never recovered,” Bruce continued, “but his consciousness – what some would say was his very soul – that fled through the drift and anchored itself to you.” He locked gazes with Raleigh, hoping to relate the truth of his following statement. “Yancy’s body may be lost but Yancy Becket isn’t dead.”

Raleigh sighed, the trembling of his body settling.

Yancy’s body shook in his peripherals. The younger turned a now worried gaze to his brother. 

Yancy’s fists clenched at his sides (distantly, Raleigh registered that his remained relaxed). “I’m so sorry, kid,” Yancy admitted. “I don’t know how I did this but -.”

Raleigh scoffed, the carefree quality of his attitude coming back now that the issue was seemingly resolved from his point of view. “You’re joking, right?” His mouth twisted into a smirk. He attempted to throw Bruce a wry look, hoping the levity of his actions would calm his brother. 

“Did you hear what Bruce said?” At being called ‘Bruce’, the scientist inwardly relaxed, knowing that he was forgiven for his deception. “You came through the drift. Last time I checked, the drift was a two-way street. You can’t have come through if I didn’t open the door for you. Right, doc?” The title came out playful.

Yancy watched Bruce shrug, nodding along with Raleigh’s analysis.

“I wouldn’t have put it that way, but, yes,” Bruce agreed.

Raleigh pointed a finger at Yancy. “If you think for one minute that I would have wanted you to die - versus being stuck with you for the rest of my life, sharing the better looking body between us (and don't lie, I saw how jealous you used to be, old man) maybe I should be the one in charge when it comes to the big decisions.”

Yancy’s mouth turned up in a sardonic grin. “Yeah, right, little bro, we’d starve if it came to that.”

Between them, despite the tentative display of affection, the drift hummed and held steady, despite neither of them stepping into a conn for years. 

At the foot of the bed, Bruce wondered to himself if this is how Achilles’ mother had felt when she had pulled her son from the River Styx. 

Bruce wondered if this is how it felt to watch heroes be born.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I KNOW. I AM SO SORRY FOR THE LACK OF UPDATES IN ALL MY FICS. I don't even have an excuse. I've been on vacation for work since the end of May. I will try to update more. Send me suggestions, love notes, etc, in the comment section or at irisbloooming.tumblr.com :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mako saw Chuck as the ever present hand at the small of her back, constant and sure; Chuck saw her as the inevitable, like his unmade bed at the end of the day.
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> They were thirteen when they snuck into a lab to try drifting with one another for the first and last time.

The popular thought is that Mako and Chuck are not drift compatible. 

The popular thought is wrong. 

Stacker and Herc had done everything in their power to make that rumor believable (when Chuck started piloting with his Dad, well, that convinced most of the rest of the nonbelievers).

Mako and Chuck had grown up around the jaeger technology - had watched their fathers move one with robots. Their childhoods had been pretty migrant in comparison to most - to the point where, though they didn't see each other that often, they were still the child the other had spent time with the most. 

That being said -

That being said - a lot of their firsts had been together. First kiss, first fuck, first fight.. Mako saw Chuck as the ever present hand at the small of her back, constant and sure; Chuck saw her as the inevitable, like his unmade bed at the end of the day. 

They were thirteen when they snuck into a lab to try drifting with one another for the first and last time.

(There's a lot to be said about the precociousness of children.)

It's said that children's minds are malleable things - nature versus nurture and all that jazz. It's scientifically proven that emotional events can reshape a brain's pathways. The brain is one of the most sensitive organs - even requiring a narrow amount of blood and sugar to vary between optimum performance to becoming the next drooling patient in an empty ward. A kid's brain is even more sensitive.

Children should never be exposed to the jaeger technology. It's why Chuck is the youngest to ever pilot and most are several years older than him.

Chuck and Mako are lucky enough that they were smart young things, who draped themselves in the lead suits they knew would protect their bodies from the radiation poisoning. 

They weren't smart enough to know not to try though. 

Chuck and Mako's drift was so strong that both their fathers thought their children would never separate (a quiet voice inside both of them wonders that maybe the two never did). They were lucky that the tech didn't fry their brains completely. 

That being said, no one will ever know if the two were drift compatible before their little foray or are drift compatible because of it. The technology could've easily punched through and rewired everything - the path made easy by similar cases of PTSD, survivor's guilt, depression, duty, etc. 

The two barely separated and only were able to do so through their fathers and Bruce's coaxing (still it took weeks of pleading, begging, and crying from both of the distinguished fathers. Weeks that no one ever talks about anymore).

Herc and Stacker thrust seas between their children once it was deemed safe, hoping that the distance would stop the way the children moved in rhythm with one another.

Still, those that know wonder if the two ever did really separate back into two people or just shift accordingly into different bodies. 

_(Mako took all the patience with her, Chuck all the brash arrogance, yet the weight of the world still stretched between them, no matter how much time or space separated the two.)_

Herc, whose drifted with his son, knows.

Maybe that's why his mouth gets so stern whenever someone brings up the possibility of Miss Mako Mori drifting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be edited later
> 
> I didn't realize this was going to be a twist till I started thinking about young Chuck and Mako (being dumb little shits and) drifting, and what the effects of such an event would have on their brains. 
> 
> Please let me know what you think. I'm on the fence about this update.
> 
> Either way, the background of this fic has finally been fully laid, so we can get to the actually angst.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That’s how they have survived all these years – pushing their attention towards other things instead of the black hole of longing within themselves for one another.

She felt him before she saw him, which wasn’t a surprise – she always felt him. (It’s why she crouched down to give Max a belly rub when she first saw the Hansens – to stop herself from throwing herself at him. That’s how they have survived all these years – pushing their attention towards other things instead of the black hole of longing within themselves for one another.)

She turned to sneak a glance and -.

 _It wasn't him._

Another woman might have drawn back, her mouth gaping in disbelief. But Mako Mori has been Marshall Pentecost’s daughter and protégé for a long time – she breathed in her surprise and exhaled it evenly, releasing the tension as easily as she did her sorrow everyday (so, not easily at all, just well-practiced).

Although it was hard to remember (especially in the comfort of her own mind) Chuck Hansen and her were not the same person (despite the rich taste of mashed potatoes that lingered in the back of her throat as Chuck laid into them). 

Chuck Hansen could not release his surprise as easily as Mako Mori does.

She felt him start at the sight of Raleigh Becket (clearly, she was not the only expecting someone else). She sent Chuck a soothing touch down his spine. 

(‘Not me,’ she sent a wry, helpless feeling to Chuck – the mental equivalent of a shrug.

He sent her back the feeling of pushing someone’s hand away when they are attempting to placate you. ‘Never you.’)

His mouth turned ugly as he said some harsh truths to Raleigh, Herc barely reigning him in. 

Mako stamped on the urge to go to him (‘to them,’ a strange voice that sounded like her own said in her mind) and walked away – silent despite the heaviness of her boots. 

Inside of her, beneath her diaphragm, she felt Chuck tugging for her as he always did, but it also almost felt like he was reaching -. 

Mako shook her head, continued the charade that she was a whole person by herself, and headed off to go over some more partner profiles for Raleigh Beckett. 

-

Raleigh breathed harshly out of his nose like a racehorse, walking back to his room. Beside him, Yancy erupted in gales of laughter. 

It had been a day since Bruce let them (Raleigh) know that the two of them were sharing one body, and Raleigh was kind of getting over it (he wasn't. He wouldn’t wish his brother away for anything. It was just hard to remember when Yancy knew that he could now rib his brother in their own private bubble).

“Man,” Yancy breathed, shit-eating grin in place, “I like Chuck.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Raleigh muttered, once they were past a pair of techs in the hallway. “Laugh it up, man. I saw how much you liked him.”

Yancy shrugged, smirking, not even bothering to deny it. “We share a body, man, so,” the smirk grew wider. 

(Strange, there was no jealousy in either of them over Chuck.)

Raleigh shoved his brother, laughing now, too. “Shut up!”

-

In some ways, being so close to Mako (hundreds of feet of steel and concrete, rooms and hallways stretched between them – it wasn’t close. It was the farthest room that Pentecost could have assigned him from Miss Mori, but that didn’t change the fact that it was still closer than they had been in years) was great. 

In some ways, it was worse. They both felt so much – anger, sorrow, disappointment, and, damnably, _hope,_ despite everything else – together and apart. She was so much better at ignoring it, at not being overwhelmed (they were both drowning, pushing and pulling at each other – making it worse and better at the same time). 

They both had low-grade headaches at all times – the result of having their consciences stretched across oceans. Being so close together felt like a rubber band snapping back into place. It would probably hurt no more after they got used to each other's proximity, but, for now, it _ached._

He focused on Max’s snuffling at the foot of his bed, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth.

He laid there for close to an hour, looking up at the dark ceiling, sprawled on his bed before he sent a tentative tug towards Mako.

He felt her mind turn to him, joy lighting up the corner of his mind connected with hers.

‘I’m here, Chuck. I’m always here.’


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Good,” she murmured, gaze fever bright with the joy of war when he mentioned he would let go of all restraint and not dial down his moves. “Then neither will I.”

Mako Mori felt like she could conquer the world this morning. She had the most restful night, her conscience curled around Chuck’s (protecting, always) – the most energy-replenishing night in what felt like years (since the last time Chuck and her had been accidentally pushed together post-lab time). 

She felt her surrogate father’s eyes linger over her, taking in the extra pep in her step that no one else would have noticed. Like a physical touch, his gaze pushed her current state of mind deeper. Her face smoothed, mouth relaxing.

After all, smirks weren’t appropriate when conducting drift compatibility tests. 

She could read the frustration growing in Raleigh Beckett in the line of his shoulders (and in the glee of Chuck’s presence in the back of her mind). Every person who was set against him was thrown down or tapped out – unable to maintain the rhythm that was ideal between matches. 

“Can we switch it up a bit?” he finally drew back. Below him, the potential pilot slithered away, ego hurt. The American said words to Pentecost that few would dare to, “Let’s give her a try.”

Mako’s excitement grew. Chuck would always be an ideal partner for her, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t take any chance to pilot. 

(In a way, the impressions of Chuck’s experience in a jaeger made her longing worse. She had shadows of his time towering over buildings, fighting off monoliths – but no memories of her own.)

Her imploring look melted the Marshall’s resolve and he indicated her forward with fond exasperation. 

(Chuck was clamoring in front and inside of her – both rooting for her, yelling at her to shove the American onto his ass, and also telling her to walk away and stand back again next to her father.)

Mako shouldered all their expectations and stepped forward. Little Miss Mori faded away to Tokyo’s Daughter – the person who had scrapped it out in an overflowing orphanage while rations and curfews and all other government policing had been going on post-kaiju attack. Tokyo’s Daughter was more idea than girl – a fearsome, tiny thing who had weathered events worse than anyone else and had climbed to the top to create monsters to fight the ones that had destroyed her life. Tokyo’s Daughter had bright blue hair to match the monsters and a crimson mouth. Tokyo’s Daughter lived between the ‘clack-clack-clack’ of kata practice. _Tokyo’s Daughter was a legend._

Her gait turned predatory – sinuous and sure-footed. In front of her, Raleigh was attempting to soothe her non-existant nerves. 

“Good,” she murmured, gaze fever bright with the joy of war when he mentioned he would let go of all restraint and not dial down his moves. “Then neither will I.” 

-

Raleigh was pacing in their room, Yancy watching him from the bed. After the trials, Bruce had found them to tell them that whoever was chosen would be informed of the brothers’ shared existence. The younger Beckett was worried about their partner finding out and reacting poorly. 

Raleigh could trust Mako with Yancy’s existence, but he didn’t know about the rest of them. 

The men knew that everyone in the training area thought the candidates had only been fighting one man – but to be honest, there was no way that Raleigh and Yancy could have tested without one another (in fact, Bruce had advised them to fight alongside with one another, citing the fact that the pilot would be drifting with both of the brothers later). It had made the trials interesting – Raleigh seemingly shifting between stances as if he was standing at other parts of the room, changing tactics mid swing of his staff. The only person who was able to keep up (able to match them, to be honest) was Mako Mori.

Mako Mori’s chances were looking slimmer and slimmer as the length of the Marshall’s silence grew and grew. 

“It’ll be fine,” Yancy tried to calm his younger sibling. 

Raleigh huffed. “But what if-?” he gestured frantically, his arms waving to encompass all that he had to say. 

Yancy shrugged.

Raleigh exhaled and plopped down next to his brother (it was interesting – Raleigh knew that Yancy shouldn’t have bounced with his weight hitting the bed, but the older brother did. Raleigh’s mind compensating for what they thought was going on? If so, was Raleigh even pacing or had they both been sitting down, thinking this whole thing out? _**Shit!**_ This way led to madness - best forget it.). 

“Why are you so calm?” he muttered. 

Yancy slung an arm around his brother’s shoulder (Interesting and horrifying all at once – Raleigh could feel the warmth of his brother’s touch despite knowing himself that it wasn’t actually happening). “We got each other,” he said it like a talisman, trying to convince himself more than Raleigh (who had already gotten over the whole ‘Ghost’ thing and just had an unhealthy fixation on the physics and science of the whole thing and what it meant to those around them) “that’s enough.” 

Raleigh sighed and nodded. Yancy was right. They would do what they always did – _survive._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no internet access at one of my offices so I typed up two chapters. Shh! Don't tell!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which, they have to decide whether to let Mako drift with the boys or not (these kinds of things can never be taken back).

Mako Mori and Stacker Pentecost looked nothing alike to most people – Herc Hansen had seen enough people’s surprise over the mismatched family to know that.

However, the Hansens had been privy to more moments between the two than most.

The Marshal was straightforward when he revealed the kind of predicament drifting with Raleigh Becket would be – how the well-meaning man wasn’t alone in his own head (even without taking into account the demons of his past). He moved on to the implications of drifting with him, hinting at Mako Mori’s own drifting background (but never mentioning Chuck’s name). He was not unkind in his explanation, but his voice was weighted and severe.

Every word he said was true and would have deterred anyone – anyone besides Miss Mako Mori. 

Herc saw how Mako’s jaw was set in a familiarly stubborn expression.

Stacker Pentecost, marshal in charge of the Shatterdome, had first seen that expression on his own sister before recognizing it on his own face. He knew enough about himself and Mako Mori to know what that expression meant.

Herc Hansen thought those who couldn’t recognize the similarities in the Pentecost family were fools: the same steely backbone echoed in their carriage – the way they stood and walked – always with a purpose.

Pentecost sighed and closed Becket’s file, realizing that he had already lost the battle.

-

“Don’t chase the rabbit,” Raleigh advised Mako, trying to control the excitement at seeing the Japanese woman suited up across from him. He ached with the iron will reflected in Mako’s eyes when she stared back at him.

A shiver ran up his spine when he realized that, despite what Mako must have known (because there’s no way Pentecost would have let any person in the position of co-pilot without informing them of Yancy’s presence) her gaze and hands were steady.

He wondered what kind of life she had led before the first kaiju had landed (he didn’t bother asking because he’d know soon enough). 

Yancy was a sentinel - silent and still as he watched the two get strapped in. Despite anyone else’s inability to see the older Becket, everyone easily side-stepped him (they always did).

Tendo Choi began counting down to the sync and the two attached pilots took a deep breath. 

With the turmoil of drifting with two new partners in an entirely new format (only two harnesses and feedback loops despite three consciences) everyone in the know expected Mako Mori to be torn in two from the strength of the Beckets. 

The Beckets, however, were at a constant drift, so it was easy as stepping into a pool on a warm summer day – the initial shock of touching something so differently cool from one’s self before the comforting sensation enveloped one’s entire body. It was not easy but welcoming. 

(Likewise, Chuck’s presence waned and came back like waves washing onto a beach.)

Mako Mori had carried herself with poise and deliberation for years. It was easy for most people to dismiss the legend she had survived in her childhood.

Drifting was easy. Remembering was _worse_ ; Mako Mori was easily taken by surprise by the sight of a familiar red shoe.

And down the hole they fell.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chuck hadn’t bothered to think what it would be like for himself if Mako and Raleigh drifted (he hadn’t allowed himself to think of the two being so intimate, guarding his position as Mako’s rightful partner viciously by ignoring the possibility of her syncing with another). He had told himself it wouldn't matter. He could handle it.
> 
> He should have prepared himself.

Chuck stumbled and almost fell before his reflexes righted his feet. 

Over the years, Chuck and Mako had cycled through many metaphors (quietly and only to each other) what it felt like to have a living ghost in one’s head: 

When they were apart, it was like being on two small islands, separated by a mile of ocean between them.

When they were closer in range, it was a little like being oil and water – floating around one another, enclosed in the same space and unable to separate, but still two different entities if they focused hard enough to notice.

Chuck hadn’t bothered to think what it would be like for himself if Mako and Raleigh drifted (he hadn’t allowed himself to think of the two being so intimate, guarding his position as Mako’s rightful partner viciously by ignoring the possibility of her syncing with another). He had told himself it wouldn't matter. He could handle it.

_Now –_

Mako and Raleigh synced up and Chuck momentarily loss all sense of balance.

Mako was the ocean, and Raleigh and Chuck were two men kicking in place miles away from one another. The distance between the two of them would take some effort to traverse (not impossible but undesirable, Chuck was sure) but they could just make out one another’s shouting (thoughts) if either concentrated enough (Chuck wondered if this is how Mako felt when he was drifting with his father). In the millisecond that Chuck stumbled, he threw curses towards the American before diving deep into the ocean that was Mako, opening his awarenesss despite the sting of it to assess what she needed.

His feet shifted underneath him to prevent the fall, and he blinked uncontrollably as he came back to himself. His father was watching him, gaze wet with fear before mirroring the shutter and fall of his son’s. The marshall was nowhere to be seen.

Chuck heard Tendo’s panicking and raced over with his dad to help the man attempt to disconnect the wires of the machine currently connecting the rookie and her copilot. If anyone else saw the shaking of Chuck’s hands, they ignored it – excusing it for adrenaline and worry. The team of men only stopped when they recognized the incessant beeping coming from the computer that signaled at least one of the pilots had disengaged. 

Breathing a sigh of relief, the three men slumped where they had just been frantically working. His father pressed a palm between Chuck’s shoulders and the two of them both gave each other a kindness and pretended like they both didn’t need the comfort. 

-

Mako gasped in Raleigh’s arms, caught between the horror of her past and the overwhelming sensation of drifting with more than one person (how did the Wei Tang clan _do_ it?). Above her, Raleigh breathed soothing words of comfort. 

“We got to get her suit off,” another voice advised. “She’s having a panic attack.”

Raleigh nodded. “I know,” he murmured. “Help me.” He traded places with the technician – and the alarm caused by the thought of her copilot being so blasé with her safety was enough to cause her eyes to focus. Her body jerked when she saw who was holding her.

“Shit,” Yancy whispered, part disbelief but mostly hope when their eyes locked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can yell at me [here.](http://irisbloooming.tumblr.com)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fathers, thinking of their children. Children, struggling under their fathers' careful care.
> 
> And our world, tremendously held between them all.

The walls were closing on Stacker: his daughter – looking at ghosts that only one other person could see; his scientists pushing pass a breach they shouldn’t; the world literally on the precipice of ending; and, of course, the ever present burn of radiation chewing away at his body. A lesser man would stumble. A lesser man would fall.

But Stacker Pentecost has always been made of sterner stuff than most. 

The first of those problems was easily dealt with – Mako was too unstable with the appearance of a companion she, Raleigh, and Bruce all insisted was real. Their fourth jaeger was put on indefinite hold. They were not allowed to fight, despite the discomfort Stacker always felt when he saw the sad set of Mako’s mouth coupled with her shoulders drawing back in a mimic of his unyielding demeanor (she learned to mirror his coping mechanisms too early in life, he often thought, bitter but proud nonetheless of the pillar that Mako Mori, Tokyo’s Daughter, was) .

The second problem, however –

He listened to Herman and Newt’s squabbling, wishing Bruce was present to decipher and translate what they were saying. He had left the third scientist with the Beckets and Hansens, watching over his ward– a decision of which he was trying to ignore caused a copper taste to sprout in his mouth.

Newt and Herman were yelling at each other, much like they always were, German expletives mixing in every once in awhile. It was through his sheer will and abundant practice that Pentecost was able to understand what they were saying: the fantastical things that were coming out of their mouths – the terrible, horrific, fantastic things.

Kaiju being bioweapons of sentient beings trying to overcome Earth for their inhabitance. The breach being widened and torn open to let these creatures through – used like a gaping maw of a mouth showcasing it’s formidable teeth, intent to devour a smaller, stupid animal. 

(“From beneath you it devours,” echoes throughout his mind, an appropriate quote from a show Luna used to watch religiously.)

Stacker ordered Geizler to see Hannibal Chau, to find a fully functioning kaiju brain to link with. For his part, Newt feigned terror, but the manic glee was already setting in his eyes. Besides him, Gottlieb was refastening his cuffs, seeming to know that they were getting down to the wire. He took his orders as he always did, straightening as much as his leg would allow.

Stacker Pentecost did what he always has done after he gave orders: he left the room, knowing they would be completed. Failure was not a word people thought of under his guidance – not when they knew all the things that were on the line.  
-

Chuck was trying to hold it together. There was so much contained rage within him. It was a stupid plan to risk the best of them all. Chuck was sometimes willing to let the whole world burn, if it meant that Mako would be alright (a thought that his father wholly disapproved of. The fact that the girl, herself, was also against that sentiment was the only thing that let Herc have his son and her have few moments together every few months).

It didn’t help that Chuck kept seeing someone at the corner of his eyes, but when he looked, there was no one there. It could probably drive him mad, if he didn’t have Mako to focus on. The fact that Mako kept looking in the same direction as the specter Chuck was imagining, was one that he was dutifully ignoring for a later time. 

Mako sat in the bare bones of their hospital ward, atop of a bed, but refusing to actually get in it. She answered the questions Bruce posed her in an equally calm and even voice as the scientist, but her eyes – they were ablaze as they flitted between Raleigh, Chuck, and an empty space that no one else but Raleigh would deign to look at for more than a moment. 

Drifting with someone else was supposed to make your connection to a previous partner fade. 

Mako Mori and Chuck Hansen had made it their lives’ work proving those kinds of expectations wrong.

“Maybe we should take her to one of the larger hospitals,” Herc suggested, aiming for helpful – successfully, too, if two of the people present hadn’t known them for all their lives (Mako, when she walked through Chuck’s childhood through his memories that first drift, years ago). Chuck and Mako knew that he just wanted Mako as far from Chuck as possible.

“It’s not necessary,” Bruce said in a faraway voice, his mind already thinking of theories to explain Mako’s now apparent stability after a few, short minutes of overload from the Drift.

“It wouldn’t work,” Herc’s blood ran cold at the synchronized murmur from all three of the other jaeger pilots. Unbeknownst to him, Yancy had said it simultaneously as well.

He clenched his jaw, wondering how to argue his point. He’d be damned if he lost his son again.

Of course, that’s when the alarm went off, signaling the arrival of a new attack. His son and he fell in line, running towards their jaeger, leaving Mako and the terrifying expanse of her mind behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a horrible person??? Who hardly ever updates???? 
> 
> I'm trying to get better but I think I just need to 1) re-watch the movie and 2) just sit down and stop making excuses.
> 
> I have no tumblr anymore so if you want to talk to me, you have to do it in the comments' section. @_@


End file.
